Aftermath
by Dani-Ellie03
Summary: I could have lost her tonight. (or, the Charming Family and Captain Swan following 4x02)
1. Charming

**Title:** Aftermath  
><strong>Summary:<strong> _I could have lost her tonight._  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Set post-4x02, "White Out."  
><strong>RatingWarning:** K+, for language, mostly. Please have a toothbrush on standby, because Daddy Charming, ahoy!  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> _Once Upon a Time_ and its characters were created by Eddie Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. I took them while no one was looking but I won't tell if you won't.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Xelbie asked me for a Daddy Charming story following 4x02 and of course I was more than happy to oblige (because Daddy Charming = the best). This is a bit more introspective than I was really intending, especially in the beginning, but I hope I made it work. Also, I've not tagged this as complete because I do have ideas for companion pieces (Mama Snow is a definite but I was thinking I could do them for everyone), if there's interest. So, basically, if you want more, throw the story on your following list and you'll see more. ;) Feedback makes every day like Christmas! Enjoy. :)

* * *

><p><em>I could have lost her tonight.<em>

Though the danger had long since passed, those words kept running over and over through Prince Charming's head. The words taunted him, making his worst fears play out in his mind: arriving too late, not getting through to Elsa in time, failing his daughter once again.

Emma Swan was his baby girl, his light, his pride and joy, and he could have lost her tonight.

It was odd, he thought, how crisis and trauma affected the human brain. In the midst of everything, his only concern had been getting Emma the hell out of that icy prison. That singular, most important goal had kept him focused, which had turned out to be quite the good thing since the pirate, who was usually good in a crisis, had been dangerously close to losing it, as Emma would say.

The desperation in Hook's eyes, the pain, the fear … Charming had felt it, too. Not for a potential romantic partner the way Hook had but for his _baby_. This woman whom he'd loved before she was even born and who embodied the very best of both Snow and himself. All he'd wanted was to do as Elsa asked so they could free his baby girl … and then Elsa's message had come through: Emma was freezing to death.

Charming could still see the panic swimming in Hook's eyes and could still feel the panic swirling through his own heart. His baby was _dying_. That knowledge should have sent him over the edge but his baby had needed him, so he'd remained focused. He'd talked to Elsa and soon enough, a hole appeared in the wall just large enough for her and Emma to make their escape.

He could still see the blue tinge of Emma's skin as they dragged her out of the cave. He could still see the way her legs gave out not once but twice. He could still see his baby girl – his light, his pride and joy – deathly pale and shaking and half-frozen and so, so fragile. The image was burned into his brain and played across the backs of his eyelids every time he closed his eyes.

At the time, he'd been focused on nothing but saving his daughter. But now that the crisis was over and everyone was perfectly fine, snuggled under blankets in the darkened apartment, he couldn't seem to stop thinking about it. All those emotions he'd tamped down in order to save his baby, they were all surfacing now.

_I could have lost her tonight_.

Charming heaved a soft sigh. Clearly, lying in bed was not easing his mind any. No, only one thing would. Sighing again, he slipped out of bed very carefully so as not to disturb his wife.

Despite poor Snow's exhaustion, it had taken her a long time to fall asleep tonight. One didn't often come home to find one's daughter white as a sheet and buried under pretty much her weight in blankets. The second Snow's eyes had landed on her baby girl, she'd dashed over to her, knelt down on the side of the chair opposite Hook, and smothered Emma with attention while berating everyone else for not calling her. "I think something like this deserves at least a heads-up!" she'd cried, glaring directly at Charming.

Of course, once her panic died down, she'd understood that freeing Emma from the ice cave had been paramount and phone calls had understandably fallen by the wayside. Still, it had taken her quite a while to leave Emma's side and even longer to calm down enough to sleep.

Charming, though, still couldn't sleep. And it was for that very reason that he found himself climbing the steps to the loft bedroom at two-thirty in the morning.

He moved as quietly as he could to avoid waking a ridiculously full house. They'd offered Elsa a place to stay for the night with the promise of setting her up with something on a slightly more permanent basis at Granny's in the morning. Henry had offered her his bed in the loft, which meant he was sleeping on the couch.

And Hook … well, Hook had gone upstairs with Emma once she'd begun dozing off in the chair. After making sure that she'd warmed up enough that falling asleep was no longer dangerous, Charming had roused her just enough that she could make the walk upstairs. And when Emma had groggily asked the pirate to stay, Charming found himself allowing Hook to put her to bed. A part of him had cringed as he did so but a larger part of him had recognized how much his daughter had needed the pirate's presence.

As Charming reached the top of the stairs he noted with amusement that exhaustion had apparently won out in the loft even if it hadn't in the room below; none of the three people currently sleeping in the little bedroom had gotten as far as turning off Emma's bedside lamp. Emma was curled up on her side, at least four blankets piled up on top of the comforter already on the bed. Charming had no doubt she was lying under every single possible layer she could.

Hook lay sound asleep on his back next to her, on top of the covers. His jacket and hook lay atop her dresser and he had forgone even a light blanket in favor of allowing Emma to have the much-needed extra layers. Elsa lay on her side in Henry's daybed, her back to the room as if trying to give Emma and Hook as much privacy as she possibly could.

Only when Charming approached the bed did he notice that the color had returned to his baby girl's cheeks. He let out of a soft breath of relief. His little girl was _alive_. She was warming up and she was going to be just fine. He hadn't lost her tonight.

_But I could have_.

He sank down on the edge of the bed by Emma's knees. For a long moment, he just watched her sleep and listened to her breathe deep, even breaths that reminded him that she was, thankfully, still very much alive.

Eventually the need to touch her became too strong to resist and he brushed his fingers along her cheek to do a temperature check. She stirred at his touch, her eyelids fluttering.

Charming cringed, both for waking her and for getting caught. If he were to place bets, he'd wager on Emma throwing a minor conniption fit upon finding him checking on her as if she were a five-year-old. Still, he felt he was allowed tonight – the checking on her, not the waking her, which had been a complete accident – so he sat and watched as his sweet girl dragged her eyes open. "Dad?" she mumbled drowsily.

His heart leaped at the name. And oh gods did her groggy voice make her sound so much younger than her years, so much like the little girl he'd never known. Then clarity came into those sleepy eyes and she smirked at him. "Busted."

Another wave of relief washed over him. There was the Emma he knew and loved, sarcastic as ever. "Yes, I guess I am," he whispered back. "I just wanted to check on you."

She arched an incredulous eyebrow at him. Then a shudder ran down her spine, reminding her quite well of the reason her father would be checking on her at … er, oh-dark-hundred. "I suppose you're allowed," she said through a trying-to-be-nonchalant sigh. "It's not every day your daughter almost gets turned into a Popsicle."

No, it most certainly wasn't. Since she was joking with him, though, Charming didn't think she'd appreciate it if he took the conversation to quite such a serious place. Instead, he injected his voice with a teasing lilt he didn't exactly feel and said, "And thank the gods for that."

Just as he suspected, Emma smiled. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and before Charming could stop her, she propped her pillows up against the headboard and sank back into them.

Well, then. Apparently he was going to get some father/daughter time out of this little welfare check.

Not that he was complaining about that in the slightest.

It took Emma a moment to notice Hook lying asleep beside her. She appeared startled at first, then somewhat confused. In typical Emma fashion, however, she covered with a joke. She turned to Charming, a single eyebrow quirked and a smile on her face that was equal parts sheepishness and mirth. "You allowed this?" she asked, nodding towards the pirate.

"There was no prying him for your side," Charming replied with faux-annoyance. It had been the truth, of course; Killian Jones would not have heard of leaving Emma's side. It was in those moments outside the ice wall that Charming had finally seen the truth: the pirate _loved_ his daughter. He'd been so desperate at the thought of losing her, the same desperation Charming himself would ever feel – or hell, _had_ felt – at the thought of losing Snow.

From the moment Emma emerged from the ice, Hook hadn't left her side. And from the moment Emma emerged from the ice, it was clear that she hadn't wanted him to leave her side.

Emma's expression softened as she briefly glanced down at her pirate, seemingly both glad and touched that he hadn't wanted to leave her. When she looked up and caught her father's gaze again, he smiled at her. "Plus, you wanted him here."

That got her to frown slightly, as if she was trying to remember how or why that had been obvious. Charming had no clue how much of her ordeal she remembered. He had no idea if she knew how tightly she'd been clinging to Hook since they pulled her from the ice or if she even remembered gripping his hand as he walked her up to bed.

Emma must have remembered at least some of it, though, because a blush colored her cheeks as she shot Charming a sheepish smile. Sensing that she once again needed a joke, Charming added, "And who was I to deny what my almost-Popsicle wanted?"

The joke worked; the smile on her face grew a little wider and lost a bit of its sheepishness. "I wonder how long I can milk this," she teased.

Oh, Charming had no doubt she would have gotten away with milking many, many things as a growing princess. She would have had the entire castle wrapped around her little finger. Hell, she had Charming wrapped around her little finger now, never mind as a rambunctious young princess with bouncing blonde curls. He had to swallow hard against the sudden tightness in his throat over all the lost time and opportunities. "A couple days, at least," he replied, deciding to continue the joking rather than giving into the emotion.

"I can work with that."

A soft chuckle escaped Charming's lips.

Emma stifled a shiver and fixed the blankets around herself in an effort to hold in the heat. Charming couldn't help reaching out to check her temperature again. He expected her to duck out of his reach but surprisingly, she sat there and allowed him to do it, first with the backs of his fingers against her forehead and then bringing his palm down to cup her cheek. Her skin wasn't nearly as cold to the touch as it had been earlier but it wasn't completely warm yet, either. "You scared the hell out of us, kiddo," he murmured, dropping his hand back to his lap.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, dropping her gaze and once again sounding much more like the lost little girl he'd never known than the confident twenty-nine-year-old he did.

"Hey, none of that," he said, lifting her chin with his index finger in an effort to regain eye contact. "There's no need to apologize. We're just glad the night ended the way it did. Things could have been a _lot_ worse."

Emma nodded, swallowing hard. The two of them sat in silence for a moment as they let the events of the evening settle. Just as Charming was about to suggest she try to go back to sleep, she said, "I was scared, too."

At first, he wasn't quite sure he'd heard her correctly. The hesitant look on her face, however, was proof enough. Despite the pounding of his heart, Charming forced himself to stifle his surprise, stay still, and let his baby girl know he was ready to listen if she was ready to talk.

"In the cave, I mean," she continued somewhat uncertainly, as if she wasn't sure why or how she was even saying any of this. "A lot of it is kind of a blur, to be honest, but I remember being scared. _Really_ scared. I've finally got a family now, people I love, and … I was afraid I was going to lose you."

Her voice hitched on the last sentence. Charming couldn't be sure whether the hitch had been due to her emotion or a shiver, but frankly, it didn't matter. In less than a second, he shifted closer to his baby and pulled her into a tight hug, his palm bracing the back of her head. The gesture must have been exactly what she needed because she wrapped her arms around him just as tightly.

Oh, how his heart was leaping for joy at holding his daughter in his arms. "You're never going to lose us, Emma," he murmured into her ear. "You're never going to lose us."

And then something even more miraculous happened: she nestled her head on his shoulder. His heart exploded with more love and more joy and more warmth than he had ever thought possible.

For a long beat, he simply held her. It wasn't until her grip around him began to go slack that he even moved, gently running his hand up and down her back. His baby girl was falling back to sleep and as much as he adored sitting with her in an embrace like this, it wasn't exactly a comfortable sleeping position. "I think it's time to lie back down," he whispered to her.

Emma nodded sleepily and, in yet another miracle for the ages, let Charming tuck her in. He slid the pillows back down so they were lying flat and waited until his daughter rested her head on them before pulling the multitude of blankets up around her shoulders. Emma just barely managed a good night smile at her father before her eyes drifted closed.

He stayed until her breathing evened out again. Then he stood and, working off the courage the embrace had given him, bent down to press a soft good night kiss to his baby girl's forehead. When she smiled in her sleep at the gesture, the thought struck him again: _I could have lost her tonight_.

And as he switched off her lamp and turned to head back down the stairs, he realized that there were no words to truly express how relieved and grateful he was that he hadn't.


	2. Snow

**Author's Note:** Thank you all for continuing to be the best readers ever. Your reviews and follows and favorites have been wonderful! Here's the Mama Snow part. Hope you like!

* * *

><p>The first thing that ran through Snow White's mind upon catching a glimpse of her daughter sitting in that chair, a blanket around her shoulders and head resting against Captain Hook's chest was, <em>Oh, so there is no her and Hook, hmm<em>?

Then the tension on her husband's face registered, as did the combination of weariness and utter relief on Hook's. Henry, standing at the stove, kept glancing in his mother's direction as if he expected her to disappear at any moment. Even the newcomer Elsa seemed to be on edge; she was casting nervous glances at Emma as if to reassure herself that she was all right.

Just as Snow set a sleeping Neal down in the bassinet, Emma shifted in the chair enough for Snow to catch a glimpse of her face. Her skin was so ashen that Snow gasped out loud. Icy tendrils of fear made their way down Snow's spine as it registered that Emma was shaking uncontrollably.

No, not shaking. _Shivering_.

And then it clicked. This wasn't a quiet moment between two people just beginning to come together. This was the aftermath of a rescue. "Oh, my gods, Emma!" Snow cried.

It took her maybe three seconds to cross the room but those three seconds felt like an _eternity_. Up close, she could see that Emma's lips were a light shade of purple. Her heart in her throat, Snow placed the backs of her fingers against her grown-up baby's forehead.

Emma was weary and still, so unnervingly still. Snow had actually expected her daughter to duck out of her reach and whine in protest but she just sat there and let her mother perform the simple touch test that parents from time immemorial had used to check their children's temperatures.

As soon as her fingers made contact, Snow winced. Her baby girl's skin felt like ice, a fact that was even more terrifying than her pallor. "What the hell happened?" she asked, crouching down in front of the chair and looking over her poor daughter to determine the extent of the damage.

A chorus of voices rang through the apartment. Charming and Hook both launched into a rambling story about necklaces and shepherd's crooks. Emma softly – so very softly, which made Snow's heart skip a beat or two – insisted that everything was perfectly fine now and it didn't matter. Over at the stove, Henry said something about a cave-in.

It was the strong yet ashamed voice of the young queen that caught Snow's attention. "It was my fault."

Everyone stopped talking. Snow turned to Elsa, eyes demanding an explanation. This woman had hurt her baby girl, and Charming was insisting _they_ help _her_?

The anger glittering in Snow's eyes must have made Emma nervous because she placed her cold hand on top of the one her mother had set on her knee, a plea to stand down. "No, Elsa," she said around a shiver, "it was an accident."

Elsa's eyes flicked to Emma, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. "It may have been an accident but I am still to blame." She returned her attention to Snow. Facing down a protective mother ready to pounce had to be one of the most terrifying things in the world but Elsa handled it with poise and elegance. "I trapped us in an ice cavern."

And for just a moment, Snow couldn't breathe. Her Emma, her _baby_, had been trapped in an _ice cavern_? Oh gods, she wanted nothing more than to pull Emma into a crushing hug and never let her go. She wanted to hold her daughter until all the ice had melted from her veins, until she stopped shivering and shuddering, and until she radiated warmth.

But wait a second. Where was there an ice cavern in Storybrooke? Ice was a bit unseasonal for this time of year. There was most definitely more to this story and Snow had every intention of getting it later. Right now, all of her focus was on her poor baby girl.

"You're also the one who freed us from the icy hellhole," Emma said, looking directly at Elsa. Her eyes held no malice or anger whatsoever, only fondness and gratitude. When Elsa gave her a little smile in return, Emma refocused on her mother. "And it's fine now, really. Everything's okay. I'm fine–"

She stopped short as a deep shudder ran down her spine. Snow winced and adjusted the blanket around her shoulders before once again clasping her knee. "The shudders are actually a good sign," Hook murmured to her. "She wasn't shivering when I put her in the land vessel."

Snow's eyes closed as her grip on Emma's knee tightened. Good gods, her baby had been so close.

Emma's hand tightened around Snow's, forcing her to open her eyes and look up at her baby girl. "I'm okay," she insisted.

She may have been okay now, but judging from both her physical condition and the tension still remaining in everyone's posture, Snow gathered that for a while there, she hadn't been anywhere near okay. She reached up and brushed a wayward strand of hair out of Emma's eyes. "How long?"

Though her poor baby understood the question, her eyes registered sheepish ignorance. She _didn't know_. Due to the temperature's effect on her, she had no idea how long she'd been in her icy prison. She must have been in and out of consciousness, then.

Oh, that was not good. Not good at all. Snow's heart throbbed in her chest, panic and concern and fear all combining to form one massive assault on her maternal instincts.

"The cave-in happened a little after the power went out," Hook supplied softly.

And once again, Snow couldn't breathe. Her baby had been trapped in the ice cave for hours! "And no one thought to maybe tell me this was happening?" she asked, her palm automatically shooting to cup Emma's frigid cheek. It wouldn't strike her until later – much later, long after Emma had begun dozing off in the chair – that not only was Emma allowing the constant touches, she seemed to _need _them.

Snow darted her gaze over Emma's head to her husband, shooting him a glare that even had Hook wincing. "I think something like this deserves at least a heads-up!"

However, Charming was nothing if not calm and cool under pressure. "Our hands were a little full at the time," he replied, softly but pointedly, while nodding in Emma's direction.

"And some of us only have one of them," Hook muttered under his breath. Emma elbowed him to shut him up while hiding an amused smirk.

Snow understood in an instant. They hadn't had time for phone calls because all their attention had been focused on trying to get Emma to safety.

All right, she supposed she could let it slide for now. Still, her baby had been trapped in an ice cavern for hours, and she hadn't known. Hadn't even suspected. Oh gods, how differently this night could have ended. She could have come home to find …

Her brain refused to finish the thought. She may not have been there to help rescue her little girl but she could damn well do something for her now. "I'm going to make you some hot chocolate," she said, pushing herself to her feet.

"I've got the hot chocolate, Gramma," Henry spoke up from the stove.

Oh, right, of course he did. Snow frowned down at Emma in thought. There had to be something else that could warm her from the inside out. "How about some soup, then? I've got chicken soup I could heat up."

A small but very grateful smile tugged at her daughter's lips. "That sounds great."

Content now that she had both a mission and a way to take care of her daughter, Snow pressed a kiss to the top of Emma's head and crossed over to the kitchen. She pulled the leftover soup from the fridge while Charming set a pot on the stove for her. She would have loved to make Emma some soup from scratch but they didn't have that kind of time. Heated leftovers would have to do.

Henry was putting the finishing touches on the cocoa as Snow dumped the leftover soup in the pot. "Bring the pirate a chair, will you?" Charming murmured to the boy as he topped the steaming drink a generous swirl of whipped cream.

"Got it," Henry smirked. On his way past the kitchen table, he snagged a chair to drag over for Hook so he wouldn't have to keep kneeling on the floor.

Now alone with her husband, Snow murmured, "So, do you want to tell me what the hell happened tonight?"

Charming gave her what she gathered was the short version of events, starting with the discovery of the ice wall at the town line and ending with the mad dash to get Emma home and piled in as many blankets as they could. He trailed off for a moment, his eyes drifting to where their daughter still sat huddled under the blankets. "I was so scared, Snow," he finished.

"I can't even imagine how terrifying it was," she murmured around the lump in her throat. It was terrifying _listening_ to it, never mind living it.

"We both were petrified," he said, nodding towards the pirate. "Hell, Elsa was scared, too. Emma was _so cold_ when we pulled her out of the ice." He returned his attention to Snow. "I'm sorry I didn't call you–"

"It's all right," she assured him. "Of course she came first." Now she was the one to look over at their little girl, who now sat surrounded by a pirate, an ice queen (for whom her grandson had also dragged another chair from the kitchen table), and a twelve-year-old boy who was perfectly content to sit on the floor at his mother's feet. The relief surrounding the group was palpable, and the thought finally broke through Snow's stubborn consciousness: _We could have lost her tonight_.

Gods, it was too much to contemplate. And yet now that the thought had pushed itself forth, Snow couldn't stop contemplating it. "How long did she have?"

"Snow–"

She turned to her husband with teary eyes. "How long?"

Charming swallowed hard as he took his wife's hands in his. "Minutes. Maybe a half hour at the most."

The tears fell from her eyes and slid down her cheeks. Thirty short minutes – or less – and everything could have ended very, very differently.

Her husband's grip on her hands tightened. "But that's not what happened, Snow. It's not. Elsa melted a hole in the ice, we got them both out, and Emma's going to be perfectly fine."

Snow understood that he was trying to get her to focus on the positive outcome that was rather than the negative one that never came to pass, but her brain refused to let go of the negative. _My sweet Emma, my little girl. And I could have lost her tonight._

Good gods, she wanted nothing more than to wrap Emma in every single blanket they owned and forbid her from leaving the apartment ever again.

Of course, locking Emma away from the rest of the world to keep her safe wasn't an option so Snow had to settle for ladling some of the now-hot soup into a bowl and taking it to her freezing cold but thankfully very much alive daughter.

Upon spying Snow's approach, Hook gently slipped the mug of cocoa from Emma's hands so she could take the bowl of soup from her mother. "Thanks, Mom," Emma murmured, and oh, how the sound of her sweet baby calling her Mom made Snow's heart leap for joy.

"You're very welcome, sweetheart," Snow replied, placing her fingers on Emma's forehead for what must have been the hundredth time. She couldn't help it, though, and Emma was still allowing it, so she went with it.

Charming had followed Snow from the kitchen and, after a quick check on Neal, sat down on the sofa. Sensing that having everyone circled around her was getting to be too much for this mother, Henry picked himself up off the floor and joined him. Elsa gave up her chair to Snow with a smile and, after a gentle touch to Emma's knee, sat down with Charming and Henry. Something told Snow that Hook wasn't about to move, which was perfectly all right since it didn't at all seem like Emma wanted him to go anywhere.

For a little while, everyone sat in a comfortable silence. Then Henry, being Henry, asked Elsa all about Arendelle. Elsa smiled and told him stories of the land she called home while peppering him with similar questions about Storybrooke. Charming divided his attention among the conversation happening beside him, the bassinet where his son lay sleeping, and his still recovering daughter.

Snow's own attention flicked back and forth between Neal and Emma. Though Emma was making a dent in the soup, she was doing so very slowly. A little bubble of fear flitted in Snow's stomach. Emma typically ate with gusto.

It took her far longer than it normally would but Emma did eventually finish the soup. Hook slipped the empty bowl from her hand and set it down on the floor next to him. When Snow bent down to pick it up to take to the sink, Emma's cold hand wrapped around her wrist. "Can you … stay for a little while?" she asked, sounding very much like a young and frightened little girl who just wanted her mom to make everything better.

"Of course, honey," Snow murmured around the lump in her throat because oh gods, her baby wanted her to _stay_. A small, grateful smile tugged at the corners of Emma's mouth. Snow once again kissed her daughter's forehead before settling a little more comfortably in the chair. She grasped Emma's hand and smiled at her. "I'll stay for as long as you want me to, all right?"

Emma nodded and closed her eyes, once again resting her head against Hook's shoulder. Her free hand found Hook's while the other remained clasped in her mother's. On the couch sat Emma's father who would do anything for her, her son who loved her with all he had, and a new friend who had saved her life.

And as Snow looked her baby girl over, tears in her eyes and her thumb running up and down the back of Emma's gradually warming hand, a new thought sprang into her mind, overshadowing the other much more negative one: _She'll never be alone again._

Snow squeezed her daughter's hand and smiled when Emma squeezed back. And when she thought of how close she'd come to never again having these little touches, never again hearing her baby call her Mom, never again being able to give Emma a hug or tell her how much she loved her …

It was the despair and ache in her heart at that thought that made her _need_ to tell her now. "I love you, Emma," she whispered, so softly she wasn't even sure Emma had heard her.

But she most definitely had. A smile curled on her lips as she opened her eyes and gazed directly into her mother's. "I love you, too," she said, matching Snow's volume.

And that did it. More tears slid down Snow's cheeks, these ones tears of joy and relief. Yes, Snow could have lost her baby girl tonight, and she had her lucky stars to thank – along with a magical ice queen, a determined father, and a just as determined pirate captain – that she hadn't.


	3. Killian

When the ice wielder's message crackled over the communication device, Killian Jones swore that his heart stopped beating in his chest. It had stopped just for a moment, but it had stopped. Then it had begun to simultaneously pound and ache, a deep, throbbing ache that took his breath away and froze him in fear.

"She's passed out … she's so cold."

It was bloody happening again, wasn't it? And this time it wasn't poison or the Dark One but something as simple as the bloody temperature. The frigid temperature in that cavern of ice was killing Emma Swan.

The prince immediately took off for the land vessel and Killian followed at his heels. Throughout the return journey to the ice wall that was swiftly claiming Emma's life, the same four words ran over and over through Killian's head: _Not again. Not her._

And the worst part was, Killian couldn't do a damn thing to help. Just like with Liam and just like with Milah, he could only stand there and watch while death took someone from him.

From what sounded like very far away, he could hear the prince talking to Elsa, trying to convince her to use her magic to melt the ice and save Emma. His own mental voice, however, was much louder, drowning out everything but the rushing in his ears and the words running through his head.

_Not again. Not her. Not again. Not her._

For a terrifyingly long moment, everything was quiet. Killian and the prince both held their breath, waiting for any indication that David's encouraging words had reached Elsa. And then something miraculous happened: the ice began to give way.

It had worked! Elsa was freeing them!

At first a few small chips dislodged from the wall but soon enough there was a hole in the ice and then Killian could see her, sitting on her knees, shivering uncontrollably, her face practically colorless. But oh gods, she was _alive_ and a relieved grin broke out on his face at the realization.

It wouldn't register with him until later that Elsa had to help Emma to her feet and walk her over to the hole in the wall. All he could see at that moment was Emma coming back to him, heading for safety. And when he and her father dragged her from the cave, all he wanted to do was hold her. Just hold her and feel her in his arms and thank whatever higher power may be listening that she'd found the strength of will to hold on in that icy prison.

The same refrain ran through his head again: _not again. Not her_. This time, though, the despair previously lacing the words was gone and affirmation and thrilled relief had taken its place. It _wasn't_ happening again and the black specter of death _hadn't_ come for her.

Only after her fingers found their way to his hair did it register how _cold_ she was. Her skin was frigid, her lips a frightening shade of blue. And when legs that were too numb to bear her weight gave out on her, Killian did the only thing could think to do: scoop her up and carry her to the prince's land vessel.

She didn't argue. She didn't say a single word, not even one snide little comment when he picked her up. An Emma Swan seemingly unable to be her typical feisty, sarcastic self scared the _hell_ out of him.

"Just hold on a little longer, love," he murmured into her ear as he approached the land vessel.

She stopped shivering as he opened the door to the rear seat of the vessel. Though he highly doubted it would be the case, a touch of her cheek as he helped her inside proved she'd not miraculously warmed up. Killian had seen enough in his centuries to know that a cold body stopped shivering when it began to shut down.

The refrain was back in an instant. _Not again. Not her_. This time, though … this time he could damn well do something about it.

"No, Swan," he muttered roughly and, without a second thought, climbed into the vessel beside her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, an effort to warm her with his body heat. She automatically snuggled into his warmth, tucking her frigid hands under his jacket.

The prince and the ice queen followed, and though Elsa cast a wary glance at the land vessel, she climbed into the front seat without question. As soon as the prince settled himself at the vessel's helm, he turned started the vessel's engine and twisted a couple of knobs on the … dashboard, Killian believed Emma had called it on their travels from New York. Hot air began pouring from the vents and David took off, wasting no time in getting Emma to safety.

By the time they got her inside the apartment and buried under blankets, Emma had begun to shiver again, a sight that filled Killian with relief. Such a simple thing, someone shivering, but that simple sight was proof positive that Emma Swan was fighting her way back from the icy depths.

And Killian … well, he vowed to stay by her side as long as she needed him.

In the hour that followed, the princess was filled in on the evening's events, Emma asked her mother to sit with her, and soft conversation had sprung up in the apartment. The adrenaline that had kept Killian and the prince and even the ice queen in motion during the rescue had long since dwindled.

Emma remained curled up in the chair, her head resting against Killian's shoulder, one hand clasped in her mother's and the other entwined with her pirate's. For her part, the princess hadn't moved since her daughter had requested she stay. Every so often, she pressed the fingers of her free hand against Emma's cheek to monitor her temperature.

Conversation swirled around Killian but he only had eyes for Emma. Shivers still wracked her body and her hand still felt like ice. She'd chimed in with the occasional comment earlier but she'd since gone quiet. Her eyes were closed but her thumb stroking his let him know that she was still awake.

After another few minutes, Snow once again brushed her fingers along Emma's cheek. Emma finally blinked her eyes open at the contact. "Are you going for the world record for the number of times in one hour a mother can check her daughter's temperature?" she asked.

The soft weariness of her voice somewhat undercut the playful sarcasm in her tone but Killian smiled anyway. _There_ was a little glimmer of the feisty Emma Swan he knew.

"When the daughter gets herself trapped in an ice cavern, I think the mother is allowed," Snow teasingly returned, a gentle smile on her lips.

Though she tried to play it off as a joke, Killian could see the fear still lingering in the princess's eyes, the same fear he was sure still lingered in his own. The paralyzing fear deep within them that had a tendency to whisper, "_You could have lost her tonight."_

As if they were going to forget that any time soon.

Emma snuggled closer to Killian as another involuntary shudder ran down her spine. "Yeah, I guess I can allow it in that case, too."

Snow smiled at her weak attempt at a joke while Killian shifted closer to her in an effort to give her even a little bit more of his body heat. She was still _so cold_. The frigidness seemed to emanate from her as if a ring of frost surrounded her. Gods, if she'd been in that icy prison even a few more minutes, it could have easily become her tomb.

The very notion made him feel seasick._ Focus on the positive, Jones_, he thought. She was _here_. She was _alive_. He hadn't lost her tonight.

Emma closed her eyes again and let the soft conversation and the warmth from both Snow and Killian comfort her. Soon enough, her thumb stilled against his and her head began to nod forward. Exhausted by her ordeal, she was finally falling asleep and yet Killian's first instinct was to wake her because she was still _so_ cold.

The prince must have experienced the same moment of panic because he asked Elsa, "Is it safe to let her sleep?"

"M'not sleepy," a decidedly sleepy Emma murmured. She lifted her head to its previous position but didn't even bother opening her eyes.

Everyone exchanged a smirk at that. Their Emma was certainly stubborn but since that very same stubbornness had given her her fight in the ice cave, none of them could very well begrudge her for it.

The ice queen rose from the couch and approached Emma's chair. Very gently so as not to startle Emma awake, she placed the backs of her fingers on her new friend's forehead. "We'll obviously need to continue warming her," she softly proclaimed after a moment, "but she can sleep. The danger's passed."

It was as if her words broke some kind of spell. A wave of relief washed over the little dwelling and everyone within it released heavy breaths they hadn't even been aware they were holding. Snow ran her thumb over her daughter's hand and Killian pressed a soft kiss to the top of his Swan's head.

She was _here_. She was _alive_. She was going to be _fine_.

The conversation around him turned to sleeping arrangements. Killian came back to the present just in time to hear the princess ask the ice queen where in town she was staying.

When Elsa didn't have a ready answer, Snow's eyes grew impossibly kinder. "It's late," she said softly. "Why don't you stay here tonight? We can figure out something a little more permanent in the morning."

A grateful smile tugged at the ice queen's lips. "Thank you."

Snow reached her free hand up to take Elsa's. "You're welcome. Thank you for saving her."

"Of course," Elsa replied, tightening her hand around Snow's.

"You can take my bed, Elsa," the young lad offered after the moment between his grandmother and the ice queen had passed. "I can sleep down here tonight."

When Elsa began to protest, insisting that she couldn't kick Henry out of his sleeping quarters, the prince calmed her fears. "It's no trouble, Elsa. He's a twelve-year-old boy who's looking for any excuse to sleep downstairs for a night."

Henry grinned, nodding in agreement. The ice queen smiled and said, "In that case, I accept." The lad led her up the metal staircase to show her to her room for the night while babbling about how he was sure Emma wouldn't mind letting her borrow a pair of pajamas.

Throughout it all, Emma hadn't stirred. The prince crouched down in front of his daughter's chair and gently roused her with a shake of her knee and soft call of her name. He waited for her to open her eyes before saying, "Why don't you go on up to bed, kiddo?"

"I'm awake," she mumbled, though her drooping eyelids said otherwise.

Wisely, David chose not to argue with her. "That may very well be but you'll be a heck of a lot warmer in your bed than you will be sitting here."

For a long beat she stayed where she was, though whether she did so out of stubbornness or simply because she was three-quarters asleep, Killian wasn't sure. Then another deep shudder ran down her spine, which seemed to make her recognize the wisdom of her father's words.

She stood on shaky legs just as Henry returned downstairs to set up the couch for his night's sleep. Snow and Killian rose with her since she had yet to let go of either of their hands. It was only when she stumbled as she tried to take a step forward that Killian released her hand, focused instead on attempting to hold her upright.

Panic lit the princess's and the prince's faces, panic Killian was sure was mirrored in his own. "Emma!" Snow cried as she released her daughter's hand to grasp her arm. "Are you all right?"

"Legs are asleep," she mumbled. "Sorry."

Killian would bet a few of his doubloons that her legs were still somewhat numb as opposed to asleep but he decided now was not the time to quibble. When he felt her stand under her own power, he released his tight grip on her. "Are you all right to ascend the stairs, love?"

"Fine," she replied, grasping his hand again.

And so all four of them walked her up the stairs. The little room at the top of the staircase was no more than a loft with a dresser on one side, a double bed in the middle, and a day bed and smaller dresser on the other. Still, it looked cozy and inviting to Killian, and though it was quite clearly the princess's furniture, there were little touches here and there that made the room all Swan.

Elsa had changed into a set of Emma's pajamas, a pair of pants and a long-sleeved shirt. From the way she kept tugging on the shirt, Killian guessed she was somewhat uncomfortable in it. She'd already turned down the bed for Emma, so Swan's parents sat her down on the edge of the mattress by the pillows and stripped off her jacket and boots. "Do you want to change into pajamas?" Snow murmured to her.

She shook her head, and Killian could only assume she was too exhausted to change. Snow smiled and started to tuck her daughter in but then paused, seemingly thinking better of it. Probably out of a sense of self-preservation, Killian thought; Emma Swan would not take kindly to being tucked in like a small child by her parents in front of her friends, no matter how tired she was or what she'd survived. Instead, Snow bent down to kiss her daughter good night. "Sleep tight, sweetheart," she murmured.

The prince, too, said his good nights, kissing the top of his daughter's head. "Good night, kiddo."

"Night, guys," she mumbled, her voice so soft and weary that Killian wondered if maybe the princess could have tucked her in after all. He highly doubted Emma was going to have any memory of this in the morning.

Her lad wrapped her in a tight hug and whispered, "Night, Mom. I'm so glad you're okay."

"Night, kid," she whispered in return, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could.

The three of them turned to head back downstairs. It was now time for Killian to say his own good nights. Before he had the chance to lean in to kiss her forehead and tell her he'd return in the morning like he'd planned, her cold hand wrapped around his wrist. She looked up him with plaintive, sleepy eyes. "Will you stay?"

His heart caught in his chest and for a moment, he was flying. Good gods, Emma Swan was asking him to _stay_.

And then he came crashing back down to earth. Emma Swan had just asked him to stay in front of her _parents_.

His eyes flicked to the prince and princess, who both looked equal parts surprised, touched, and wary. It was David who recovered first and, after exchanging a silent glance with his wife, it was David who nodded permission from the both of them.

Someone could have knocked Killian over with a feather. Her parents were allowing him to put her to bed. Would wonders never cease.

After Emma's family descended the staircase, Elsa and Killian helped her lie down under the covers and proceeded to drape four more blankets on top of her. "Thanks, guys," she mumbled, her eyes finally sliding closed.

"Good night, Emma," Elsa whispered, smiling down at her new friend. Then she got herself settled in bed, facing the wall to give Killian and Emma at least the semblance of privacy.

His heart throbbing in his chest, Killian rounded Emma's bed, shrugged off his jacket, and slipped his hook from the brace. After setting the jacket and hook atop her dresser, he very tentatively sat down on the empty side of Emma Swan's mattress.

And he waited. Waited for her to wake up enough to realize what was happening, waited for her to tell him she hadn't really meant for him to stay the night. It never came. Instead, she turned over under her mountain of blankets and blinked her eyes open. "Lie down, pirate," she murmured, reaching a hand out from under the blankets to grasp onto his.

Smiling, Killian did as she instructed and lay down next to her, though he did remain on top of her covers for the sake of propriety. "Good night, love," he whispered, once again entwining his fingers with hers as her eyes drifted closed.

"Night." The word was barely audible, mumbled as she finally lost the battle with sleep.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Killian could only hold onto her hand, even once her grip around his loosened. Good gods, he'd almost lost her tonight. She'd been on the brink but she'd held on and, with the help of an ice queen, made it out alive. Neither she nor Elsa had given up, and Killian didn't have the words to describe how relieved and thankful he was that they hadn't.


	4. Henry

**Author's Note:** Thank you all for your absolutely lovely comments thus far. I'm really glad you're all enjoying this! In answer to a couple of questions I've gotten in the reviews: yes, I am planning on chapters for everyone, which means Elsa's up next (and is making me nervous because new characters = scary :)). I've saved Emma for last. Also, I've broken down and made myself a fic/fangirl Tumblr (thanks, AmTheDreamer! ;)). I'm dani-ellie03 over there and have not done much with it yet because I have no freakin' clue what I'm doing, but I'm sure I'll figure it out. :)

* * *

><p>Henry Mills couldn't believe that he'd been <em>mad<em> at her earlier.

Well, okay, he hadn't really been mad at Emma specifically, he supposed. He was really mad at Regina. Mad and upset and … hurt, but he figured he was allowed. Shouldn't kids whose moms say they want them to stay away be mad and upset? All he'd wanted to do was help his mom, but she wasn't even going to let him try!

Anyway, Emma had tried to make him feel better but he was way too upset. And the second the lights went out, Henry knew she was going to have to leave him, too. Not forever or anything, but she was the sheriff and sheriffs investigated things, especially in Storybrooke where things like random power outages generally were never really all that random.

In her defense, she had tried to talk him into coming and any other day, Henry would have been all over that. But he'd just been so _angry_. The absolute last thing he'd wanted to do was sit in the car with Emma and his grandpa while they drove up and down the streets of Storybrooke looking for any reason at all the power went out.

He could tell that he'd upset her when he said he didn't want to come. Or maybe not upset her, exactly, but he'd definitely worried her. As it was, she'd dropped him back at the apartment before meeting up with David, so, as she put it, "At least I know where you are."

He'd sighed and wanted to fight with her but then he'd figured it wasn't worth it and he could be just as angry and upset at home as he could at Granny's.

All of his angry thoughts fled from his mind, however, when the phone rang a couple hours later. Well, okay, he did roll his eyes when he saw his grandfather's number on the screen at first but he answered the call anyway just in case it was something important.

And boy was he glad he did. It turned out to be something _very_ important.

"Henry, it's Grandpa," David said after Henry answered the call.

Admittedly, Henry rolled his eyes again at that. He'd known who it was just from the Caller ID. But then the tone of his grandfather's voice caught his attention. He sounded scared and kind of frantic. "What's wrong?"

"I need you to gather every blanket you can find in the apartment and have them waiting for us when we come home."

Blankets? Why did they need blankets? He could hear Killian saying something in the background but he couldn't make out what it was. He did, however, hear a woman's voice that he didn't recognize say something in return: "She's going to be all right."

Something was wrong, something was really wrong. "Why? What happened?" he asked, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Everything is going to be fine, Henry," David assured him, "but your mom got herself into a little bit of trouble during the investigation and she needs those blankets. I promise I'll explain everything when we get home but for right now, I just need you to do as I ask, all right?"

"Okay," he said, nodding even though his grandpa couldn't see him.

"That's my boy," David said into the phone, pride apparent in his voice. "We'll be there in a couple of minutes."

Henry disconnected the call and, panic rising in his throat, began the mad dash to look for the blankets. There was one on the back of the sofa and his gramma kept a couple folded up on the hope chest at the foot of her bed. What on earth could have happened that his mom needed blankets?

He was just debating whether or not to run upstairs to grab the comforter off his bed when the apartment door burst open. Killian and David and a blonde woman Henry had never seen before walked his mom through the door. And when Henry saw Emma, his heart dropped into his stomach.

She was pale, so very pale. The only color in her face was on her lips, which were an odd shade of purple. David stood on one side of her and Killian stood on the other, and she was shivering. It took Henry a moment to realize they weren't so much helping her walk as they were half-dragging her.

A thousand questions tumbled through Henry's mind. What had happened? Was she okay? Who was the other blonde lady? What was going on? And yet he moved as if on auto-pilot, blanket in hand, his legs carrying him over to them as if without his conscious consent. "Mom! Are you okay?"

"Fine, kid," she said through a shiver.

Fine? She was not at all fine. If this was fine, he couldn't imagine what not fine was. The blonde lady gently slipped the blanket from his hands. His hands now free, Henry tried to grasp onto his mother's but flinched and pulled back when he felt how _cold_ her skin was. What the _heck _was going on?

As the small group that had clearly become a rescue squad walked Emma over to the chair Henry had set up for her in the warmest spot in the apartment (he'd figured that went along with the blankets), David finally took mercy on his grandson. He quickly filled Henry in on the evening's events, starting with the discovery of the ice wall and its eventual cave-in. Elsa, the blonde woman Henry didn't know, looked both sheepish and proud when David gave her the credit for saving Emma by magically melting a hole in the ice wall.

Only in Storybrooke could someone almost freeze to death when it was nowhere near winter.

Henry knelt down on the floor in front of the chair, holding onto Emma's freezing hand as Elsa and David and Killian wrapped her in the blankets he'd gathered. God, he was so glad she was okay. It seemed silly now that he was so mad at her before.

And then it hit him, right in the gut. The way he'd ignored her … that could have been the last interaction he ever had with her.

Well, he might not have been able to take back ignoring her earlier but he could certainly try to make up for it now, starting with making her some of their favorite hot beverage. That would warm her up in no time.

So he made Emma the hot chocolate and sat with her for a while. Then he moved to the couch with his grandfather when he could tell she'd reached her limit for people around her. Elsa sat with them and after a little bit of conversation, Emma began falling asleep, which meant it was officially time for bed.

Because Elsa was staying with them, Henry got the whole downstairs all to himself. Well, okay, he got almost the whole downstairs all to himself because his grandparents and little Neal were just behind the curtain in the bedroom. But still, it was a lot more room than he was used to having, so he settled down to sleep, content in the knowledge that Emma was okay.

* * *

><p>"<em>No, Mom!" he cried as he watched Emma's yellow Bug careen off the road, right into a six-foot-tall snowbank.<em>

_But this wasn't any ordinary snow. This was magic snow that had the power to instantly freeze anything that touched it. The car now glittered with ice._

_At first he thought Emma was going to be okay. She hadn't been hurt in the accident, just scared. But as she tried to get out of the car, the snowbank collapsed, piling that magic instant-freeze snow on top of her._

"_No!" Henry cried again, turning to where Regina was standing beside him. He took a step towards her, aching for a hug, but before he could get any closer, she vanished into thin air._

_And Henry was left alone, all alone._

He sat up on the sofa, panting heavily and blinking back tears. Oh, thank God, it had just been a dream! An awful, terrifying dream, but just a dream. It wasn't real, it wasn't real at all. Both of his moms were still here, perfectly fine.

Still, he couldn't go back to sleep. It took him a moment to realize why: he needed to check, just to make sure.

Of course, he couldn't check on Regina at … oh, gross, four-forty-three in the morning, but he could most certainly check on Emma. With a quiet sigh, he threw the blanket off his legs and, as carefully as he could in the gray light of pre-dawn, made his way through the apartment. He climbed the metal steps to the loft and rounded his mom's bed. His original plan was just to come in and make sure she was all right – warm, still breathing, that kind of thing – but no sooner had he knelt down next to her than her breathing changed. She inhaled deeply and, to his complete surprise, blinked her eyes open. "Henry?"

"Yeah," he whispered, cheeks burning. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You didn't. Not really. It's more of a mom thing, I think. Is everything okay?"

"Yep. Totally fine."

Which was a total lie. Apparently her superpower worked in the almost-dark, too, because she sat up a little and said, "No, it's not. What's the matter?"

He had every intention of telling her about the dream – well, sort of, just in the "I had a bad dream and needed to come see you, it's silly" kind of way – but what came out instead surprised him. "I'm sorry for how I acted earlier. Before the power went out, I mean."

"Oh, kid, it's all right–"

"No, it's not," he insisted, though he had no idea where this was coming from at all. This was not what he'd come up here to talk about but maybe … maybe it was what he needed to talk about. "That could have been the last time I was with you, and–"

"Hey, shh." She drew her hand out from under the pile of blankets and grasped onto his. Tears welled in Henry's eyes as he grasped her hand and then some instinct he didn't quite understand made him stand up and wrap her in a hug.

Emma immediately hugged him back, and the only thing running through his mind was how warm she finally felt. Nothing like earlier and certainly nothing like his dream. "Hey, it's all right," she whispered into his ear. "It wasn't the last time you were with me."

"But it could have been."

"But it wasn't." She pulled away so she could look him in the eye … or as much in the eye as she could with the little bit of ambient light in the room. "Henry, listen to me. I'm not going anywhere, all right? Not for a long time. I know you were scared tonight. Hell, I was scared, too, but I'm fine now and I'm not going anywhere."

He nodded and then wrapped her in another hug. He was old enough to know that she couldn't ever really promise him she wasn't going anywhere. Accidents happened all the time and it wasn't like life in Storybrooke was quiet and peaceful. Look at what had happened tonight, for crying out loud! Still, the hug and the talking had calmed him down and made him feel better. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too, kid."

After holding her in the hug a moment longer, he pulled away and smiled at her. He hadn't meant to wake her up but he was really glad she'd woken up anyway. Talking with her had helped a _lot_. "I should let you go back to sleep."

"You sure you're all right?"

"Yeah, I'm good now." He bent down to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Good night, Mom."

"G'night, Henry."

By the time he started down the stairs, she'd already settled down to go back to sleep herself. Henry smiled. He could have lost both his moms tonight. He had a plan to get one of them back, and he was more glad than words could say that he hadn't lost the other one.


	5. Elsa

**Author's Note:** This chapter is making me nervous because writing a new character for the first time is always a little nervous-making. My only real exposure to Elsa is her scenes on _Once_. I've only seen _Frozen_ in bits and pieces (read: it was playing while we were hanging out with a hyper four-year-old and a just as hyper nineteen-month-old, so you can imagine how much attention I was actually able to pay to it). So if the characterization is off, please forgive me, as I'm still trying to get a handle on it. :)

* * *

><p>Elsa awoke in the morning to an extremely quiet loft. A little bubble of panic caught in her throat when she didn't recognize her surroundings. Oddly enough, it was the uncomfortable way the borrowed pajama bottoms had ridden up her legs in sleep that made her remember.<p>

Emma. She had stayed the night at Emma's.

Or Emma's parents' dwelling, she supposed. She didn't quite understand who, exactly, lived here permanently, nor did she understand why Emma and her parents were the same age. From what she gathered, magic was the culprit but she had yet to hear the full explanation … or at least an explanation that had made any kind of sense.

It was only when a disoriented Emma had said in the ice cave that she wished her mom was there that Elsa picked up on the inconsistency. Emma had told her that the communication device would allow her to speak with her father on the other side of the wall but then she'd said later that she hadn't had parents to help her with her magic. Mostly to keep Emma talking but partly out of curiosity, Elsa had said, "I thought you said you didn't have parents."

Deep in the throes of hypothermia, Emma had only managed a brief and not at all lucid babble about a curse and stolen happy endings before losing consciousness. By the time Elsa was able to wake her again, all memory of the conversation had fled Emma's freezing mind.

The memory of Emma's tenuous physical condition the night before sent Elsa back to the present. She glanced over at the other bed, just to make sure her new friend had fared well during the night.

Thankfully, everything seemed to be fine. Both Emma and Killian were still asleep. Killian lay on his side facing Emma, and Emma was curled up facing Elsa, one hand resting on the pillow in front of her face and the other arm draped over the edge of the mattress. She'd kicked one of the extra blankets to floor during the night and had apparently given another to her pirate in sleep, as it lay rumpled across his legs.

Though Emma was still under plenty of warm layers, Elsa couldn't help climbing out of bed for a quick check of her temperature. A touch of her forehead proved that not only had she completely warmed up overnight, but she was also getting a little too warm. Her skin felt hot beneath Elsa's fingertips; the extra layers were more than likely a bit much for her now.

Smiling softly, Elsa removed the other two blankets, picked up the one from the floor, and carried them over to Henry's bed to refold them. The peaceful calm of the morning was a welcome relief after the panic and terror of the previous night.

As Elsa folded the blankets, she glanced back over at Emma. It struck her as so strange to feel such a kinship with a woman she'd only met the night before. Then again, bonds tended to form in a crisis and bonds also tended to form when the two people have something in common. She and Emma were similar in so very many ways. Both had grown up alone, both had been thrust into positions of responsibility with no guidance, and both had magic.

Elsa had never known anyone else with magic before. She hadn't actually seen Emma's magic the night before but she had no doubt in her mind that Emma had been telling her the truth. Maybe it was the way Emma had spoken about her powers as though they were a curse or maybe it was the frustration on her face when she hadn't been able to make her magic do what she'd wanted it to do, but Elsa had believed her. It had been such a relief to be able to talk about it with someone else as if it were _normal_, to not have to hide the fear and the lack of control. It had felt wonderful to talk about it with someone who understood.

And to think it was Elsa's own lack of control over her powers that had almost led to …

She shook her head as if to shake the thought from it. Nothing bad had happened. She'd saved Emma. She'd gathered the courage and control to melt a hole in the ice, and she and David and Killian had gotten her to safety in time.

Around her, the small apartment was beginning to fill with early morning sounds. She heard more than saw the pirate stirring. Downstairs, the baby began to fuss and a second or two later, a soft voice shushed him. "Shh, let's not wake everyone, little prince," the voice said in a murmur. A smile tugged at Elsa's lips.

Blankets now folded, she wasn't quite sure how to proceed. Should she stay upstairs and wait for Emma to awaken or head downstairs to offer assistance to whomever had gotten up with the baby?

There was, of course, a third option, one that she hadn't even considered but was immediately apparent when Emma's pirate finally opened his eyes and pushed himself up on one elbow. She could stay upstairs and quietly converse with someone else while waiting for Emma to awaken.

Killian's first order of business was the same as Elsa's had been. He pressed the backs of his fingers to Emma's cheek, causing Elsa to hide a smirk. Something told her that poor Emma had never had this many people checking her temperature before. Upon spying the relief lighting Killian's still somewhat sleepy eyes, Elsa whispered, "She's perfectly fine."

The pirate started at the sound of her voice. Elsa cringed; she hadn't meant to startle him. "Good morning," he whispered in return, giving her a smile.

"Good morning."

Emma shifted under the covers, turning onto her back with a quiet groan. She, too, was beginning to awaken.

As was the rest of the apartment. A second set of footsteps padded out of the bedroom below them. Voices conversed softly as cabinets opened and closed. Moments later, someone began tiptoeing up the metal stairs to the loft.

Emma's mother peeked into the room and gave welcoming smiles to her two guests. After whispered pleasantries were exchanged, Snow stepped up to Emma's side of the bed and brushed her fingers across her daughter's forehead for yet another temperature check. Elsa and Killian exchanged an amused glance; Emma's eyes would have rolled right out of her head if she ever knew that all three of them had checked on her in such a way.

Content and relieved that her daughter's temperature was back where it ought to be, Snow stepped away from the bed to address both Killian and Elsa. "We're making her favorite breakfast this morning: chocolate chip pancakes. There will be plenty to go around so come on down when you're ready."

They both thanked her. It wasn't until Snow had gone back downstairs to get breakfast going that Elsa turned to Killian and asked, "Chocolate chip pancakes?"

"You'll find that she adores her confections," he replied, briefly smiling down at a stirring Emma before looking back up at Elsa. "She's made me try chocolate chip pancakes before. They're griddle cakes with little bits of chocolate mixed into the batter. They're good, if a little sweet for first thing in the morning."

Elsa smiled and then realized this was a perfect opportunity to ask Killian something that had been bothering her since she awoke. "May I ask you something?"

He looked over at her and gave her a small, understanding smile. "You want to know why her parents are her age."

She nodded sheepishly. "If you're willing to tell me."

"I only know parts of the story myself, but from what I gather, Snow's stepmother cast a curse. Emma was prophesied to be the one to break it. Her parents sent her through a magical wardrobe as a newborn, both to save her from the Queen's guards and to protect her from the curse. She grew up in this world while her parents were locked in time, subject to the curse."

"And she grew up alone," Elsa murmured, feeling an overwhelming amount of sympathy for her new friend. Growing up alone was just as much a curse as anything any witch or wizard could conjure.

"Aye. As I said, I haven't been able to piece together the whole story but I do know she was alone for a very long time."

With a strength and conviction that was coming from a place Elsa couldn't quite name, she smiled at the pirate. "Well, we'll just have to change that, won't we?"

Killian looked her in the eye, smiling as well. "Aye, we will."

And Elsa knew they would. Anna had done so for her; Anna had fought against insurmountable obstacles to prove to Elsa that she didn't have to be alone any longer. And now, she herself had the opportunity to do so for Emma.

In the time she and Killian had been talking, breakfast had apparently come a long way downstairs. The sweet aroma of the cooking pancakes wafted up to the loft, making Elsa's stomach growl. If chocolate chip pancakes tasted as good as they smelled, they might become her favorite thing about this land.

The aroma must have finally pushed Emma into wakefulness because she shifted position yet again, kicked her coverings down to her waist, and flung an arm over her eyes to block them from the assault of morning sunlight. "I smell pancakes," she mumbled.

Elsa and Killian both somehow managed to swallow their chuckles at that one. "And good morning to you, too, love," the pirate teased.

"Morning." She lay still for so long that Elsa thought she'd dozed off again. Perhaps she had but if so, she was only out for a few minutes. Eventually, she kicked the covers off completely and groggily pushed herself up into a sitting position. "God, I'm so freakin' hot."

It took a second or two for her own words to register. Then she blinked and grinned in excitement. "I'm hot!"

Apparently that was too good an opening for the pirate to pass up. He smirked at her and said, "That is perhaps this world's description but I certainly agree with it."

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up, you know what I mean. After yesterday, I didn't think I'd ever feel hot again."

Heavy guilt rushed through Elsa's veins. She was the reason Emma had almost frozen to death the day before. She was the reason Emma had thought she'd never feel hot again. She was the reason …

Emma turned to her, and Elsa thought for sure that now that Emma was thinking clearly, she was going to be angry. For crying out loud, she _should_ be angry. Elsa had almost killed her last night!

But all it took was two small words from her new friend to stop those guilty thoughts in their tracks. After Emma caught her eye, she gave her a small smile and said, "Thank you."

Elsa wasn't sure she'd heard her correctly. "Me? I'm the one who trapped us in there in the first place."

Emma shook her head. "But you also got us out. I can't remember if I thanked you last night or not but if I didn't, I should have. Thank you."

Elsa had to swallow hard against the lump in her throat. "You did." No, she hadn't said the actual words as far as Elsa could recall, but it had been obvious in the way she had stood up for her in front of everyone and the way she'd insisted on helping her find Anna. It was such a relief to know that Emma's gratitude from the previous night hadn't simply been a byproduct of her tangle with hypothermia. "And you're very welcome."

Emma smiled at her and then swung her legs over the edge of the bed, complaining that she was _starving_ and the pancakes smelled way too good to ignore any longer.

Killian and Elsa exchanged an amused smile over Emma's head as all three of them began to make their way down to eat. As Elsa descended the stairs, she let out a soft breath of relief. She now had people who had pledged to aid her in her quest. She now had a glimmer of hope that she would find Anna. And she'd made a new friend who _understood_ her.

Something told her that she was Emma's first real friend, just as Emma was hers.

Yes, things could have turned out so very differently the night before, and Elsa was so very glad that they hadn't.


	6. Emma

**Author's Note:** You guys are seriously the best readers ever. I hope you've enjoyed this story! It was a really fun one for me to write. :)

* * *

><p>Emma Swan had never been so excited to head down to breakfast in her entire life. Apparently almost becoming a Popsicle in an ice cavern worked up quite the appetite because she was freakin' <em>starving<em>.

It was only as she descended the first step that she realized how sore she was. Every single muscle in her entire body _ached_. Apparently almost becoming a Popsicle was quite the workout as well, because she might as well have run a damn marathon, for how much she hurt.

The aching was better than the previous night, she supposed. At least it didn't burn. Yeah, apparently frigid temperatures could cause one's extremities to actually feel like they were burning. Who knew? The universe had a sick sense of humor sometimes. It was almost a relief, then, when her fingers and toes, hands and feet, and arms and legs had gone numb. At least then it hadn't hurt anymore.

But holy freakin' shit, did it hurt now. Maybe later, she could sit in a hot bath for a little while.

Not that she had a lot of time to contemplate it. As soon as she set stepped off the staircase, her very concerned mother approached her. "Good morning, sweetheart," she said, using the excuse of brushing a wayward lock of hair off her forehead to check her temperature.

Emma could practically feel Elsa and Killian hiding amused smirks behind her. Still, she couldn't bring herself to be annoyed with Snow. In fact, there was something comforting about her mother's touch, so comforting that she found herself welcoming it with a soft smile. "Good morning. Please tell me those are chocolate chip pancakes I smell."

Snow smiled back. One couldn't keep Emma's mind off food on a normal day, never mind after a period of recovery. "They are indeed. Have a seat; they'll be ready in a minute."

With Elsa and Killian at her heels, Emma padded over to the table where Henry was busy setting out plates and glasses. As soon as he saw her approaching, he stopped what he was doing to pull out her chair for her.

Oh, he was totally babying her, which ordinarily would have raised her hackles, but she remembered the panic on his face the previous night when she arrived back at the apartment white as a sheet and shivering. Just like with Snow, she supposed she could let him have this little moment of taking care of her and making sure she was okay.

Plus, her muscles were practically screaming at her and she very much appreciated not having to expend even the small amount of extra effort to pull out her own chair. "Thanks, kid," she said as she plopped down, happy to be off her feet.

"You're welcome, Mom," Henry replied, smiling as Elsa and Killian took seats as well. Killian, of course, sat next to Emma and Elsa settled across from her. Then Henry finished setting the table, plunking the final glass down in front of Killian.

Emma eyed the place settings warily. It was certainly going to be a tight squeeze with all six of them huddled around that little table.

Actually, make that six and a half. David exited the bedroom then with a freshly changed little Neal in his arms. He slid the squirt's bassinet closer to the table so they could keep an eye on him as they ate and lay the baby down in it, getting him comfy on his back. Then he focused his attention on his daughter, stepping up to her and, just like his wife before him, brushing his fingers along Emma's forehead for a temperature check. "How are you feeling, kiddo?"

Her cheeks burned at the pet name, which caused Elsa and Killian to exchange an amused glance. "I'm fine," she said, quickly and automatically.

And then David gave her a _look_, such a no-nonsense dad-like look that it actually made her gulp. He was totally calling her bluff, and he didn't even need to utter a word to do it! Somehow that was really not fair. "All right, I'm a little sore," she sighed, relenting to her father.

_A little_ was still understating the truth but whatever. And sore wasn't even the end of it. Despite having slept pretty damn hard most of the night, she was still exhausted. She still felt somewhat sluggish and out of it, too, like her brain was struggling to keep up with what was going on around her. Hopefully that would go away as the day went on.

Thankfully, no one had time to question her any further. "Breakfast is served," Snow said as she crossed the kitchen, a platter stacked high with chocolate chip pancakes in her hands.

She set it down in the middle of the table and told everyone to dig in. She also surreptitiously dropped a couple of brown tablets next to Emma's plate – some Advil to help with her aching body. Emma smiled a thank you up at her. Snow just winked and headed back to the stove to cook the rest of the pancakes.

Emma piled her plate; the melted chocolate chips were already making a mess and oh _God_, these pancakes were going to be so good. Then she watched with amusement as Elsa daintily slid a pancake onto her plate and stared down at it as if she didn't quite know what to expect.

Oh, whoa, wait a second. She _didn't_ know what to expect, did she? Did they have chocolate chip pancakes in Arendelle?

"Here," Emma said as she reached across the table to drizzle some maple syrup over her friend's pancake. "This goes on top. Now try it."

Though she still looked as unsure as Emma herself had probably looked when faced with a plate of chimera, Elsa cut a small piece of pancake and popped it into her mouth. As soon as the maple syrup, sweet buttermilk pancake, and melted chocolate hit her taste buds, her eyes lit up.

Emma grinned. "Good, huh?"

"Yes, very," Elisa replied after she'd swallowed her bite.

Damn straight it was. _Much__better than chimera_, Emma thought as she popped her first bite of pancake into her mouth. And maybe it was just because everything tasted better after almost becoming a Popsicle but hot damn, these were the best pancakes Emma had ever tasted.

It didn't take long for conversation to kick up at the table. Everyone began discussing their plans for the day – Henry wanted to go talk to Regina, and Emma and Elsa needed to take care of the ice wall. Snow finished cooking and sat down to eat after bringing a second platter of pancakes to the table. Cries along the lines of "This is really good, Gramma!" and "Who has the syrup?" somehow never interrupted the flow of conversation.

For the first time, it struck Emma that she was participating in a family meal. This chaos and love and comfort ... this was _normal._ This was _family_.

And she could have lost it all.

Her memory of her time in the ice cave and even the time in the apartment afterward was spotty at best. The beginning of the ordeal was much fresher in her mind: the frigid temperature, talking to David and Killian over the walkie-talkie, trying so desperately to make her damn magic useful for something. She remembered the frustration when she realized that once again, her magic was not going to cooperate. By the time it had become clear to her that Elsa either wouldn't or couldn't release them, the temperature had pretty much killed her ability to concentrate on anything but how damn _cold_ and _tired_ she was.

She remembered Elsa shaking her and forcing her to talk in an effort to keep her awake. She remembered the fight against the utter exhaustion from the cold becoming harder and harder until ... nothing.

Well, that wasn't quite true. She had bits and pieces; Elsa half-pleading with her and half-commanding her to _stay awake, Emma, don't you _dare_ go to sleep._ Her father's crackly voice over the walkie asking for her condition. Killian's frantic voice as Elsa began melting the hole in the wall.

She remembered clinging to Killian, she remembered him picking her up, and then nothing until she came home – _home_ – to her kid. She remembered her mother coming over to her and smothering her with overprotective-mom attention. She remembered her mother's constant touches and Killian's arm around her and how much comfort they'd given her. She remembered how much she'd _needed_ the touches, craved the touches. She remembered how relieved she'd been to hear her baby brother fuss because for a while there, she'd been afraid she was never going to be able to hear him cry again.

And all of a sudden, the fear Emma had only been vaguely aware of the night before hit her full force. In the ice cave, as her body grew colder and colder, the part of her consciousness that was aware of the danger had been afraid that she wasn't going to make it out of there alive.

She'd _known_. She'd known it was only a matter of time before the cold killed her. She'd even said as much to Elsa at one point, hadn't she? On some distant level, she'd known she was going to die, and it had terrified her.

She'd been so afraid she was never going to see her kid or her parents or her little brother or her pirate ever again. She'd been so afraid she was never going to get to tell her mom and dad that she loved them, never going to get to watch Henry grow up, never going to get to help teach the little squirt his ABCs or pull pranks on their parents with him, never going to get to tell Killian how much he really meant to her.

God, she could have lost all of them last night. She could have lost all of _this_. The normalcy and belonging and sense of home and family, everything she'd been searching for her entire life. And she could have lost it all.

Emma didn't really have a sense of how bad her condition had been the night before but judging from everyone's reactions last night and this morning, she guessed it was _bad_. She remembered both David and Henry coming into her room in the middle of the night, she knew Killian and Elsa hadn't left her side, and she was pretty sure she'd felt her mother's touch along her forehead as she was waking up. For everyone to be that clingy – and hell, for Emma herself to cling right back – she knew they were _all_ feeling the severity of the situation.

She'd come within what, maybe an hour of losing all of this, all of _them_? Holy freakin' _shit_.

A hand settled on top of hers, startling her back to the present. "Are you all right, love?" Killian asked in a murmur, concern swimming in his eyes.

Emma glanced around the table. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves an awful lot because of some pancakes. But it wasn't just the pancakes, was it? In their own way, everyone was celebrating the fact that the previous night had turned out the way it did. It was clear in the little glances they all kept throwing her way and the easy smiles on their faces. They were thrilled they hadn't lost her, and she was thrilled she hadn't lost them.

"I am now," she whispered back, smiling at him. "Thanks to all of you."

He smiled back, squeezing her hand before letting go and returning his attention to his pancakes.

And his gentle comfort was utterly perfect, just as everyone else's had been. Sudden tears welled in Emma's eyes, tears of happiness and gratitude and comfort and blissful warmth, both the physical kind and the emotional kind.

She blinked them back before they could fall, sniffling and capturing her parents' attention as she did so. When Snow and David – no, _Mom and Dad_ – both looked at her, questioning and concerned, Emma simply smiled in reply. They exchanged a touched glance and smiled back, the tears glistening in their eyes indicating that they'd received her silent message: _Thank you, and I love you_.

She could have very easily lost everything last night but she was more grateful than words could ever say to everyone crowded around this little table – her _family_ – that she hadn't.


End file.
